Slaves
by Bananas102
Summary: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood story. What if history was changed and State Alchemists were only human weapons? Slaves that were tortured and made to fight for the military? The Ishvalan war, as well as the toll on familiar characters, would have been very, very different. Rated T for torture and language.
1. Chapter 1

"Riza Hawkeye?"

Riza glanced up from where her sniper sat, cradled on her lap. She placed it to the side and stood up, quickly saluting.

"Yes, sir." The man looked almost embaressed. "You don't gotta do that, you know." Riza raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The man cleared his throat. "I wanted to tell you two things. One: We have a friend in common. Roy Mustang?"

Her surprise must not have been concealed completely, for she was suddenly greeted with a beaming smile. "Yup! Roy talked about you! I'm Maes Hughes; Roy and I were friends at the acadamy."

They shook hands.

"I'm sorry," Maes added, pushing up his glasses. "I know you two were close."

She blinked. "He's not dead."

Maes muttered something than sounded an awful lot like 'he'd be better off that way.'

Her expression saddened. "Then I take it he was taken in as a State Alchemist." Maes nodded solemnly. "Damn it," she growled. Her fists clenched from where they hung at her sides.

"You said there was something else you wanted to tell me." Maes looked up in surprise before his expression darkened, a look that seemed wrong on the man.

"Yeah. The military has ordered the State Alchemists to be brought in."

* * *

Roy knew he was being sent off to fight. That was all any of them knew.

Looking around them, he couldn't help but feel sick at the expressions most of them bore. Dead. Empty. Like they were nothing more than a shell.

The truck lurched to the side, but no one even found it an inconvenience. No one said a word. All the alchemists were chained with their wrists behind their backs. Roy's gloves were kept on the body of a single officer, the so called 'manager' of the State Alchemists.

"Anyone find out where we're going?" a voice asked, tone monotone. Glancing to his left, a heavily muscled alchemist sat in a corner. Roy faintly recognized him as the Strong Arm Alchemist.

Roy was at least satisfied in the knowledge that one other person still had a shell of life within them.

"No," Roy answered back, redirecting his gaze away from the man and back to his own lap. Since he had the ability to wield enormous power with his hands, they were bound so tightly any movement was painful and physically damaging.

He could feel the Strong Arm Alchemist's gaze on him. Roy exhaled, a few more beads of sweat matting the sides of his hair. It had been several hours ago, but it could have full well been days and he wouldn't have known, but the temperature had skyrocketed. The air was hot and stuffy.

The alchemists with severe injuries like broken ribs or punctured lungs wheezed heavily on the ride.

Only a few days later, did they finally arrive at their final destination.

To which they would later discover...was Ishbal.


	2. Chapter 2

The doors open and bright sunlight flooded in, making Roy squint.

Officers started yelling at them and shoving them out of the trucks. When the alchemists around him started standing and shuffling out, he got to his feet and lumbered toward the exit as well.

His mind seemed to disconnect from his body, slinking back into the refuge of his own head. Or at least, the small corner of it that wasn't littered in several versions of metal scarring.

Unrelenting arms grabbed his elbow and almost literally tossed his out of the back of the automobile. On impact he refused to let any sound escape his lips. His knees caved from the strain, but luckily he still stayed up, even though he was bent over from lack of energy.

Roy exhaled in soft pants, and he immediately glanced up to survey his surroundings. The group seemed to be in the middle of some sort of camp, for soldiers milling about with guns strapped to their backs and entering and exiting tents.

But as more and more alchemists were unloaded, the number of soldiers stopping increased. Some looked disgusted. Other horrified. A few even looked upon them with pity.

Considering how awful they must have looked, Roy wasn't all that shocked. But the sliver of fire within him growled at the thought of being pitied. Looking at the people slowing down to watch them, he recognized a few faces he distantly connected with the academy, before the higher ups deemed him a State Alchemist.

Then his eyes fell on two people standing side by side to his right. It was like a punch to the gut. He stared at them, hoping to God he was hallucinating.

* * *

Chatter spread through the camp like wildfire, signaling the arrival of the alchemists. Hughes and Hawkeye pushed through the soldiers until they reached a group of people surrounding the trunks that had only recently pulled in.

The sight that greeted them was nothing short of awful.

Every alchemist that was dragged out of those trucks were pale and thin, with dark circles under their eyes and bruises on their faces. They had their hands bound behind their backs, most painfully so.

Their stomachs churched as a few sweat-soaked alchemist collapsed to the ground as soon as their feet hit the sand.

BUt what really made their eyes widen was the black-haired alchemist that staggered dangerously out of the truck. Time seemed to slow down incredibly as Riza bit down on a whimper of horror.

Maes's face turned to shock.

The alchemist in question had almost fallen when he made contact with the uneven ground, but his shaking legs didn't fail him quite yet. His eyes were slits from the bright light, but that's not what really horrified them.

Not the bruises on his jawline or the small cuts on his forehead and neck.

It was broken look in Roy Mustang's eyes.

They were no longer glittering and dark, filled with fire and passion. They were shallow and still, like an abandoned ship.

"Roy," Riza whispered, moving forward, but Maes quickly grabbed her arm. "Hawkeye, you can't. It'll just make things worse for him, as well as cause trouble for you." Riza wanted nothing more than to run to her old friend, grab him, and run like hell.

But she had to admit, Maes was right. They'd only inflict wrath back onto the both of them, nothing more.

Roy stared at them with a slightly stunned expression before he was grabbed and shoved in the direction of the holding tent, where the alchemists would be housed until they were sent out onto the field.

"He looked so dead," Riza croaked. Maes 'hmm'ed. "I'm going to see if there's any way to talk to him. But until then, we have no choice but to get back to work." Riza nodded before drawing her heels together and saluting Hughes.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

As soon as both Roy and Riza were out of sight, Maes couldn't stop a shiver from crawling up his spine.

Riza had hit the nail on the head. Roy looked like a dead man walking. But then again, if he thought about the other alchemists, they didn't look that much different.

It was obvious they had gone through some kind of torture, though Hughes was pretty sure he'd rather stick a finger in acid than think about that. It was no secret that the military used the State Alchemists as human weapons, no different than guns or explosives.

Except they used cruel methods to keep them in line. The alchemists themselves were treated as an inhuman object, slaving away in dark military cells until they were called for, which usually took place in a war zone somewhere.

The public knew the ranking of State Alchemists, but the extent of their torture never reached civilian ears. Every soldier that walked in had no idea of the horrors the military were willing to inflict upon it's citizens.

But since they were soldiers, they couldn't do or say anything about it.

Some personnel were imprisoned for life when they attempted to spread the information.

Maes tapped one of the men on the shoulder. "Hey, could you point me toward the person who manages the alchemists?" he asked, swallowing nervously when the guy narrowed his eyes at him.

He jutted out his chin before directing with his head. "You're looking for Mark Basford," he rumbled. Maes chuckled nervously. "Thanks," he said before scurrying off.

When he did find the tent that supposedly held said manager he ended up simply tugging on his sleeves and trying to find the gall to go in.

"Here to see Colonel Basford?" Maes jumped, but when he turned to look, it turned out to be a rather friendly looking older guy. Maes nodded. "Yeah." The older guy chuckled. "Let me guess, you don't have the stomach to walk in?"

Maes grinned sheepishly.

"Sorta. I mean, I'm trying to find someone to arrange a visit to an alchemist." The man froze, looking at him quizzically. "You know, I'll tell you something," he declared, beckoning Maes in close.

"The military didn't used to treat those poor chaps that way until the current fuhrer came into power," he whispered. Maes blinked. "Really?" The old guy nodded. "Yup. I feel sorry for those guys, you know?"

Maes looked around before saying in a low voice, "The reason I'm trying to arrange a meeting is because I have a friend in there."

The older man seemed surprised. "Really?" Then a determined expression came over him. He cracked his knuckles. "I'll get you your meeting," he growled, marching into the tent without restraint, leaving a startled Maes staring after him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Roy? Roy Mustang?" Maes felt sick as he wandered through the tent that was absolutely crammed with tied up alchemists. Only one or two stirred as he wandered through them, eyes scanning for a head of ebony hair.

He found Roy eventually, in the back right corner. The officer squatted down in front of his friend, who was staring at the floor with an empty gaze. "Roy?" he asked softly. The alchemist raised his head.

"Maes?" he whispered, and the gray of his eyes darkened a shade, showing a little more or the Roy he remembered. "Yeah. Roy, it's me." Roy looked down, bringing his bound wrists to his chest.

Maes reached down to untie them, but Roy jerked his wrists away. "Don't," he muttered. Maes sighed. "Roy, me and Hawkeye are coming up with a plan to get you out of here."

"Hawkeye?" Maes closed his eyes momentarily. "Yes. She's helping me. We're getting you out." A voice chuckled. "Out? Impossible." Maes frowned at the long-haired alchemist sitting across the tent.

His long dark hair was strewn across his shoulders and back. He was thin, his cheekbones sunken in and a nasty looking gash was open and bleeding on the right side of his forehead.

"Why'd you help?" the man hissed. Roy looked over at him, bangs falling over his face. "Stop, Kimblee." The alchemist huffed, but it soon turned into a harsh coughing fit that didn't die for almost a minute. But he shut up, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Maes leaned in closer to Roy. "Who is he?" Roy watched Kimblee carefully. "The Crimson Alchemist." Maes almost chuckled. "He's the liveliest of you bunch." Roy blinked. "He's a friend. Keeps me going," Roy rasped.

The soldier wasn't sure what to say. "Hey! Come on, time's up," the guard barked. Maes clapped Roy gently on the shoulder, feeling a twinge in his chest when Roy flinched.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Maes stood up and weaved through the huddled bodies to get to the entrance, where he conversed tersely with the guard before leaving, Roy watching him go before the tent flap closed, enclosing them all in near complete darkness once more.

"So that's Maes Hughes." Roy blinked a few times. "Yeah."

It was true that he owed everything to Kimblee. He was his only friend among the other alchemists, constantly striking up conversations and keeping Roy from deteriorating into a shell like so many of the others.

Roy would never knew how Kimblee kept his spirits up, but part of it seemed due to his innate ability to tolerate the constant bloodshed. In the times the two got separated, Roy seemed less alive.

On Kimblee's end, he was just happy to have a friend. Roy was a good person, a good friend. And in turn, Kimblee felt a sort of protectiveness that kept him helping the Flame Alchemist.

In other words, the two needed each other.

* * *

"The Crimson Alchemist?" Hawkeye murmured. "He's due out on the battlefeild in a few days, I think." Maes nodded.

A soldier started ushering people to the side. "Come on, people, move it." Maes muttered something but the two shuffled over. In the space provided, soldiers flanked a group of alchemists. One was the Strong Arm Alchemist, another was Roy, and behind him, was one neither Hawkeye or Hughes knew.

"We have to fight with them today," Maes sighed. Hawkeye nodded, grip tightening on her sniper rifle. He nodded to the woman. "See you out there." She saluted him. "Yes, sir."

She quickly jogged away. Maes took a breath and swiftly moved into the soldiers getting ready to ship out side by side with the alchemists. The three sat slumped next to a ruined building. Roy sat with his face turned down towards his lap, his eyes a shimmering gray again.

One of the soldiers look at him in disgust, spitting a wad of saliva at his feet. "Not as high and mighty as you thought, are you?" he spat. Roy slowly looked up at the man before casting his eyes down again. Enraged, Maes grabbed his arm.

"I see you doing that again and I'll turn you over to the Colonel," he growled. the soldier flushed and saluted him. "Yes, sir!" Maes looked at him long and hard before nodding.

He sighed. "Alright, troop. Let's go." It was a recon of a small Ishvalan village. No one had yet been able to determine the force of their attacks, so their little group had been volunteered.

They climbed down a hill of broken building parts, every soldier holding a gun and, Maes noted, Roy wearing striking gloves of white with a red symbol on them.

Maes hadn't even had time to issue an order before bullets were raining down on them some hitting soldiers and other shattering stone pieces. A snap echoed in Hughes' ears before there was an explosion, and the rooftop the attackers were on burned.

With sickening horror, Maes realized he could hear their agonized screams on the wind. He looked over at Roy, whose hand was poised in the form it had taken when he saved the lives of almost the entire troop.

Roy's eyes slowly darkened, then widened as his action hit him in full force.

His hand trembled and it fell to his side. The alchemist blinked a few times.

"We should go," he rasped, looking shell-shocked and numb. Maes nodded.

Roy began walking shakily, a limp to his step, farther into the village.


End file.
